Аннотация
It’s been six years since Alaric’s great defeat. Six years of skulking in the shadows, drinking the days away.
He thinks his life over, the glory days behind him. Until a band of horsemen appear on the horizon, eager to recruit the man they still believe to be a lord of war.
And so Alaric must drag himself from his slumber, don his mail once more. For in the far north of Germania lies a tribe in desperate need of aid. They seek an army of bristling spears, a wall of wooden shields with an iron will. What they’ll get is one tired old man.
In the far reaches of the land, for a cause not his own, Alaric will fly the Raven banner once more. In doing so, he will discover if he is still the man he once was, or if he is destined to feast at the Heroes Hall at last.
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